


Jump

by Natileroxs



Series: A Gift Can Be A Curse [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Not Beta Read, Teleportation, five is my precious baby boy, four five six and seven friendships are what i live for, klaus up next, this fandom is blowing up so quickly i can't keep up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 21:04:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18060098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natileroxs/pseuds/Natileroxs
Summary: Five doesn’t know what’s happening. Because the whole world just shifted and now he doesn’t know where he is or how he got there.If you think about it, teleportation isn’t actually that cool of a power.





	Jump

**Author's Note:**

> This was so fun to write. Timezones were difficult though. Hope you enjoy.

 

One was the first to get a power, Three next then Two. Number Four had freaked out when he first saw a ghost, Six crying when the monsters escaped his stomach. Mom, Four and Two had comforted him for hours.

 

So Five didn’t find it a great loss that he didn’t have powers. He was nearly ten and the others had been five and six when they first got their powers. It was almost guaranteed that he didn’t have powers and he was fine with that. He and Seven would watch the others for hours as they trained. Seven asked him what power he wanted and he told her that he didn’t really want one.

 

She did, always had. She felt left out even if he was with her. He liked being alone or just with one other. He wasn’t much of a fan of large groups, preferring to spend his time with a few or by himself.

 

He is sitting in his room now, reading a book with his blazer hooked over a chair and shoes placed delicately on the floor. For an hour it had been blissfully quiet but now he can hear the buzz of chatter coming from downstairs. The others have returned from training, and he’s seriously annoyed that they have disrupted the peace. Not much he can do about it though, as they deserve some downtime. He knows he has plenty of that himself.

 

They get louder and he rubs the bridge of his nose in irritation as they come stomping up the steps and running towards their rooms. Three’s door slams shut loudly, followed by One’s. Two’s stuttering voice disappears into his room and then there is a knock on Five’s door. He opens it.

 

Number Four, Six and Seven stand there, the two former giving him tired smiles while Seven just looks down, embarrassed. He sighs, opening the door fully and gestures inward. They enter and he gently lets the door swing shut. Four situates himself on the bed while both Six and Seven find spots on the floor.

 

“That bad, huh?” Five sits back where he was as Six nods.

 

“One and Two got into a fight and Three rumored One before storming off.”

 

“She was mad,” Four laughs, though it is strained. “And so was Dad.”

 

Five hates it when they say, _Dad_ . He sees the man as nothing more than a tormenter, a somewhat delusional old man playing with them like they’re only experiments. The only name Five reserves for him is Sir Reginald, and that’s if he’s in an _okay_ mood. Hargreeves is what corrects his brothers and sisters with. Not Dad, _Hargreeves._

 

“It’s okay,” Seven whispers. “I’m sure he’ll be over it by dinner.”

 

“Sure,” Four rolls his eyes. “He’ll probably just give us that disappointed and empty stare. Like he always does.”

 

Five is about to agree when a sick feeling begins to pool in his stomach and he leans back, willing nausea to go away. It doesn’t.

 

“Five? Are you okay?” Six asks but Five has his eyes closed. Four slowly places his hand on Five’s.

 

“Fine, just feeling a little-” He suddenly lurches forward and both Seven and Six leap out of the way in case he’s going to be sick. His eyes spring open as he falls forward and suddenly everything is blurry and spinning and he meets the ground. Except this isn’t the freshly vacuumed carpet of his bedroom, nor the soft surface of his comforter. No, just the harsh, unforgiving tarmac of… of where? Where is he?

 

Honking startles him and he looks up to see a car, lights bright enough in the autumn evening that it blinds him a little. He instantly rolls over onto the grass then the pavement before standing up, dizzy and his stomach does a flip. He places a hand over his mouth and stumbles backward, leaning up against a wall he finds by waving his other hand about behind him.

 

A few people stare at him before a nice lady wanders over to him and asks if he’s okay. He responds with a nod before he collapses forward, so close to throwing up. He forces bile down with sheer willpower and grits his teeth, wrapping one arm around himself. The woman leans down and rubs his back but soon enough the sick feeling passes and he shrugs her off, looking around him.

 

People begin to walk past again, everyone blurring together and he tries to find something to identify where he is. A few streets signs later and he finds that he is currently miles away from the academy. Thousands of miles. He doesn’t know how to get home and he’s honestly a little scared.

 

He doesn’t understand what happened, he’d been in his room one minute and the next he was in the middle of the street, sick and tired and so absolutely terrified. So he pushes that all back and begins to walk, swaying slightly as he does. He manages to get to the end of the street before the dizzy feeling comes back and he trips under his own feet, tumbling forward into… grass. A park full of trees and laughing, screaming children running about and playing. He rolls over so he’s lying on his back and closes his eyes, placing an arm over them as exhaustion washes over him and his head begins to pound.

 

He catches snippets of words and finds he can’t understand them. The sun is shining downwards and fear turns into terror as he realises he might not even be in the same country as his family, the same continent.

 

Five takes a few minutes to ground himself and presses his hands into the dirt, forcing himself upwards. None of the signs around him are in English, but he glimpses enough images to put together a general idea of where he could possibly get help, a convenience store, a fast food restaurant, a bookstore. He heads towards the cluster of buildings, away from the loud children. He reaches a wall when everything spins again and he lands right next to a startled Pogo.

 

Thank god.

 

But his relief only lasts a few moments because the last thing he sees is the chimpanzees concerned and shocked face before he blacks out and wakes again somewhere else.

 

It’s night now, stars glowing brighter due to the waxing crescent and he finds the darkness forgiving due to the intense pain in his head. There’s wood underneath him, a park bench maybe, and a massive monument stands in the distance. Even drenched in shadows he’s sure he can make out the famous shape. The Eiffel Tower.

 

Panic sets in.

 

“What the fuck?” He hisses through the hell in his head. He sits up, regretting it almost immediately before he lies back down. “How in the world did this happen? How did I get here?”

 

He’s tired, so tired. So, despite the fear and confusion and pain, he falls unconscious, the vague worry of where he’ll be when he wakes up pulling at him.

 

* * *

 

But apparently, he doesn’t have to worry about that, because in the morning he’s exactly where he was when he fell asleep. In Paris, France. Faintly he thinks about how he’d always wanted to go to France. But instead, he’s focusing on how thankful he is that his headache has gone.

Then he begins to shake as a realisation dawns on him. Or two do. One, he has no idea how to get home. He’s, again, thousands of miles away, across a whole ocean from home. Two, he has a power.

 

_He has a power._

 

Teleportation, and uncontrollable yet extremely powerful teleportation. He never thought about having a power, thinking he wouldn’t get one. Him and Seven, no power no missions. No training and no worries. But here he is, on the other side of the world, in a country in which people don’t speak inherently speak English.

 

He needs a phone. Something to ring home. Pogo had given them the house phone number in case _somehow_ they get lost. Before he’d scoffed and said that that would never happen. Guess he just proved himself wrong.

 

People are scarce around him but he can see some clustered around cafes and shops. The thought of food makes his stomach growl and reminds him that he has missed dinner and that everyone is probably worried sick. More importantly, Four, Six and Seven will be. He strides as quickly as he can with his short stature towards the people. One or two of them look up at a boy in simply a white shirt, navy shorts, and socks, shoes nowhere in sight. He curses the fact that he took them off. The chill of the wind is also making him regret leaving his blazer behind.

 

At least he isn’t in his pajamas or something.

 

He brushes his more than likely wild hair back and goes up to the first person he sees, addressing them in a somewhat shaky manner.

 

“Uh, do you know English?”

 

The man he’d walked up to squints his eyes and thinks for a moment, possibly processing his words. Five waits patiently.

 

“Little,” The man says, his accent curling the words around funny. “Sorry.”

 

Five shakes his head and moves away, the man sending him an apologetic look. Five continues to ask, mostly garnering the same answers. Finally, he finds someone who speaks more than a few words and despite her broken sentences, she manages to understand his need for a phone and offer him hers for him to use.

 

He takes the little bit of paper he’d kept on him always - _despite not thinking he’d need it, he knew it was smarter to hold onto it -_ and punches in the numbers. It rings once, twice and three times. The realisation finally crosses his mind as he figures that it is probably quite late where his family currently is. Some of the hope that they’ll answer dies and he considers hanging up and waiting some more. For hours where they’d be awake or for him to jump or teleport or something again he doesn’t know.

 

But then the phone clicks and it’s not Pogo’s voice coming through the phone but Four’s.

 

“Hello?” He sounds a little desperate and Five immediately feels guilty.

 

“Four?” Five is not prepared for the joyous cry over the phone once Four hears his voice.

 

“Five, oh my god, you’re okay.” He thinks he hears Four sobbing but he doesn’t mention it. Clattering and shouts echo in the background and then another voice is coming through the phone.

 

“Five, where did you go? You just disappeared!” Six asks, concern dotting his tone.

 

“I’m in…” He doesn’t know how to do this. He’s barely able to wrap his head around it himself, he’s a little scared on how his siblings will react when they find out what happened. Not that he quite knows that himself. “I’m in Paris.”

 

A choked sound of disbelief and then the phone is passed around again. Now it’s Seven. “Paris? What do you mean? The real, honest, Paris in France? With the tower and everything?”

 

It dawns on him that it’s actually pretty cool to be in Paris, but the way he got there scares him more. “Yeah,” He almost hisses. He looks over to the woman who offered him the phone but she’s more focused on conversing with her friend. “Uh, is there anyone else there?”

 

“No. Dad’s still in his study, he doesn’t know anything and One, Two and Three are all up in their rooms. Pogo was here a few minutes before you called but he went to go do something and he hasn’t-” Seven’s voice is cut off as someone else takes the phone.

 

“Five, what’s it like?” Five can almost see Four’s grin.

 

“I would be enjoying myself if I was sure I could get home.” Now he can almost see the way Four droops. Then he starts to feel sick again. He speaks quickly. “I’ll- I’ll call you back. Promise.” He hangs up even as protests come through the phone and hands the phone over with a muttered thank you as he struggles to walk away and around the corner.

 

Everything blurs again and there’s pavement and grass and moss. It’s the courtyard. He’s home.

 

But for how long?

 

His eyes take a little to adjust, having been nowhere ready to be thrown back to night time again. His head begins to ache again and he shouts, loud and clear. “Number Four! Six, Seven!”

 

Footsteps and three kids are around him.

 

“Five!” Six helps him up as Four cries out. Seven timidly hugs him and he gives them one of his rare, tired smiles before limping inside, Pogo meeting them at the door.

 

“Master Five, welcome back,” The chimp looks a little frazzled himself but ushers them all inside. “We can speak about this tomorrow, but I insist you all get to bed.”

 

Six nods and both him and Four help Five walk up the stairs and to his bedroom. Seven follows them and they gather in his room again. Five lies down in bed and they watch him. He sighs.

 

“Get in,” They all rush at once and he smiles again.

**Author's Note:**

> Times/Places -  
> Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. 8:30 pm or 2030 (Headcanon that the umbrella academy is there due to them filming a good amount of it there).  
> Portland, Oregon, USA. 5:40 pm or 1740.  
> Near Tokyo, Japan. 9:50 am or 0950.  
> Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. 9 pm or 2100.  
> Paris, France. 2:10 am or 0210.  
> Paris, France. 8 am or 0800  
> Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. 3 am or 0300.


End file.
